“If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

Jazz musicians are so comfortable. The reason they can’t do what we do is because they’re so comfortable doin’ what they do.

First you imitate, then you innovate.

That’s the way women do. The frown. They want to give you the attitude to approach them back, by giving you a negative vibe.

Jazz is like blues with a shot of heroin!

Always listen for what you can leave out.

My father’s rich, my momma’s good looking. Right? And I can play the Blues. I’ve never suffered and don’t intend to suffer.

There are no wrong notes in jazz: only notes in the wrong places.

The thing to judge in any jazz artist is, does the man project and does he have ideas.

It’s not the note you play that’s the wrong note – it’s the note you play afterwards that makes it right or wrong.

If you sacrifice your art because of some woman, or some man, or for some color, or for some wealth, you can’t be trusted.

I’m out there doing the best that I can, My lip is cut and I’m still playing.

It took me twenty years study and practice to work up to what I wanted to play in this performance. How can she expect to listen five minutes and understand it?

It takes a long time to sound like yourself.

I don’t pay no attention to what critics say about me, the good or the bad. The toughest critic I got is myself…and I’m too vain to play anything I think is bad.

Food makes my mind sluggish.

If you love them in the morning with their eyes full of crust; if you love them at night with their hair full of rollers, chances are, you’re in love.

Where do you go when you don’t know where to go?

Just hoping for the gentle in the unknown.

You have arms and legs, but don’t know what to do with your lives.

I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.

Endings are also beginnings with a destination unknown.

It was a good place for getting lost in, a city no one ever knew, a city explored from the neutral heart outward, until after many years, it defined itself into a jumble of clearings separated by stretches of the unknown, through which the narrowest of paths had been cut.

What do we do now, now that we are happy?

Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.